Tales of War by John W Dennehy

Author:John W Dennehy [Dennehy, John W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Macabre Tales Publishing
Published: 2020-04-09T04:00:00+00:00

Mangled

Jeb set out to cultivate the field that had lain fallow since the war. Tobacco growing in the other fields must wait another month before reaping. He retrieved the steel plough from his dilapidated barn with grey boards and sagging roof, and then hitched it to his only, aging, dray horse.

Together the man and old horse trudged uphill to the northeast field. A slight mist rolled over the undulating Kentucky hillsides but was already beginning to burn off in the summer heat.

Setting the plough into the earth, the horse pulled, straining the leather harness, while the sharp blade cut into the crusted topsoil. The plough churned through the dirt bringing nutrients to the surface, sending chewed up weeds beneath the ground. Jeb labored through the morning, working up a sweat and wearing the horse down.

A shiny metal object reflected in the late morning sun. Jeb halted the horse to investigate. Bending over, peering at the find, he quickly discerned a Confederate half-dollar coin lying face down in the dirt. Jeb snatched it from the field. The coin stamped 1861, depicted Minerva’s head on the front.

He hadn’t seen one in over a year. Pocketing the piece, Jeb began to wonder if Kentucky had really shown much wisdom in entering the war. Aches from his old wounds were setting in and Jeb knew that he and the horse could only go another hour or two. Grabbing hold of the plough handles, Jeb snapped the leather reins and the old horse began to forge ahead.

****

Later, he noticed something crest the hilltop. The silhouette of a figure loomed in the morning haze, an effervescent shadow that shimmered in the mist, as though the man were a smoky part of the dissipating vapors. The mist and man fingered together so indiscernibly that it was difficult to tell where the figure began, and the fog ended. Jeb shook it off as mirage.

He put his head down and continued plowing, until the voice of a stranger caught his attention.

Jeb looked up and saw the palpable outline of a figure headed uphill. The sun was at the interloper’s back. Jeb squinted, studying the contours of the approaching man. The stranger seemed frail and wore an infantry uniform and a short-brimmed cap, but the sun was so blinding that Jeb couldn’t make out the color of the uniform.

Jeb brought the horse to a standstill and approached the stranger wearily.

The man stopped about ten feet away. Sunlight continued to obscure the interloper from Jeb’s view. A moment of hesitation; this stranger brought with him a sense of danger, and Jeb could feel it in his bones.

“Howdy,” Jeb said, reluctantly. “Need any help, mister?”

The stranger shook his head, but all Jeb could see was the faint outline of the cap’s brim moving side to side.

“What brings you this way?” Jeb’s voice cracked as he spoke.

“Just passing through.” The stranger paused, an awkward silence. “Why, I reckon that you’ve got yourself a nice spread here.”

Jeb looked around at the small house built of limestone blocks, then he scanned the haggard barn and undulating fields.

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